


I Heard Kylo Ren...

by susiephalange



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, Male-Female Friendship, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 21:42:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11723154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susiephalange/pseuds/susiephalange
Summary: It had been an ordinary day of your job. You had woken early, as you often did, bringing a cup of fresh caf to the rooms where your superior, General Hux slept in, and escorting him to the Bridge of The Finalizer, informed him off all the messages on the Holopad since his last checking-in the night previous. You would greet his associate, and your Commander, Kylo Ren, often trying to not make eye-contact, or interfere with the Knight of Ren. But today, there was no dark-clad man with a lightsabre in sight.





	I Heard Kylo Ren...

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm late to the bandwagon for that SNL skit that happened (a year ago? eight months ago? time isn't real) but I'm here and I wrote this and I live for Matt fics. So I wrote one. Enjoy!

It had been an ordinary day of your job. You had woken early, as you often did, bringing a cup of fresh caf to the rooms where your superior, General Hux slept in, and escorting him to the Bridge of The Finalizer, informed him off all the messages on the Holopad since his last checking-in the night previous. You would greet his associate, and your Commander, Kylo Ren, often trying to not make eye-contact, or interfere with the Knight of Ren. But today, there was no dark-clad man with a lightsabre in sight.

“General –,” you began, but your ginger-haired boss shook his head before you could continue.

“Don’t worry yourself,” he sighed, not looking up from his Holopad, trawling through the messages from Captain Phasma for discussions on the training regime. “Ren is on assignment.”

You nodded, and had not put too much thought to it. Until near the middle of the day, near the main officer’s cafeteria. It was then when you went head over kitten-heels on a wrench, falling onto your nose. Not a soul made a noise upon seeing your fall, and none went to help you. So, brushing off the bruise that was sure to come, and the dignity you had left, went to stand. But then again, there seemed to be something slippery underfoot, and you went down again.

“Can you give me my wrench?” A baritone voice intoned beside you.

Glancing up, you were met with the face of a man. In the appearances of men, you were not one to judge, as everyone looked different in their own ways, but, inside your chest, you felt a flutter. You might be known as the ‘The Bootlicker of Starkiller’ because of your position as secretary for General Hux, but your heart was beating so very fast at the sight of him. Just the sight of him made you forget what he had just said, and left you laying on the floor like a person without a braincell in sight.

“P-pardon?” you whisper, and moving to stand up, add, “sorry. I didn’t hear –,”

He blinked. “My wrench. Can you give it, to me?” His voice was curt, solid, perhaps borderline rude. But it startled you out of the stupor of seeing his face (or possibly, the stupor of falling _twice_ ), and scrambling across the hallway, you hand the tool to the technician.

The tool which made you slip.

“Hang on,” you hesitate, sitting up. “That was – I fell over because of that!” you protest.

The technician grumbles. “A Stormtrooper kicked it.”

“That wasn’t very nice of them.” you frown, and standing up, you straighten your First Order uniform, brushing off the gunk that laying on the hallway had adhered to it. You clear your throat, and add, “Did you catch their I.D. tag? I could report them to General Hux if you want me to do something about it.”

He blinked. “Do you tell everything to Hux?” He blurted.

You felt your face flush with colour, burning you inside out. “I – I don’t suppose I’m allowed to disclose that, erm, –,”

He didn’t even blink, and with the wrench in hand, replied in deadpan, “My name’s Matt. I’m a radar technician. And you’re late to your meeting, aren’t you?”

Your eyes widen, and remember that yes, in fact, you are, and the General would not be pleased at your lack of presence to transcribe and provide assistance. You nod, and hastily bid Matt goodbye, running off in the direction you were headed before you tripped, as fast as you can in your little heels.

* * *

It couldn’t have been more than a week later when you saw him again. You were at the desk positioned before General Hux’s office, filing the incoming documents on your Holopad in order of importance for your superior, when the blond technician walked in. It wasn’t too unusual for those of lower rank to come to speak with General Hux when he wasn’t on patrol on the Bridge – they often came with complaints or suggestions, or even, on call from the General himself. Even though you had spent the briefest of moments before with the technician, you felt a smile come to your face, and rose to greet him.

“It’s nice to see you again, Matt,” you beam, placing the Holopad upon the desk. He stands still, a confused look crossing over his face, and at this, you pause, and add, “Your name is Matt, isn’t it? I’m usually good at remembering people’s names.”

He clears his throat. “Yep, I’m Matt. Radar, technician.” He must have somehow sensed what your next question would be, and added, “I’m here to speak to Hu – General Hux.”

“He’s running a little slow for meetings,” you tell Matt, recalling the list your ginger-haired supervisor is working from. “He’s got the Minister of the Mirialan home world in overtime now, and when you’re done, there’s a spokesperson from Dantooine.” You don’t know why you’re saying all of this to him, but Matt seems to be the kind of guy who seems trustworthy, even though he has a resting face that appears to be costive. “Do you want to come back, when he’s free, or wait…?”

The blond man huffs, and moves to the chairs you keep in the corner near your desk. It’s an impromptu waiting area, of sorts, with a little table with gossip rags and a fake flower in a vase. “I’ll wait. I’m on a break.”

As Matt takes a seat, however, you reach into the hidden draw beneath your desk. It’s hidden in case you’re under attack from rouge officers, or infiltrated Resistance, as it has a single Blaster and two extra clips of ammunition. It also has your special container of soft caramel sweets, kept for special occasions. Taking the glass receptacle out, you hold a wrapped lolly out to the man lodging in your waiting room.

“Thank you,” you say, walking over to Matt, the sweet still extended in your hand. “For the other day. If it weren’t for you, I don’t think I would have made it in time to the meeting, and I would’ve gotten in trouble with General Hux.”

He looks at the wrapped treat with a puzzling look, and that custom-made frown he always has on. “But you tripped on my wrench.”

“I’m not one to point fingers,” you shrug. “Do you want the caramel or not?”

Matt took the caramel.

You both sit there in silence, sucking away at the lollies. He’s on the edge of the chair, fingers gripping the edges tight enough to whiten his knuckles. You’re perched on the front of your desk, feet dangling off the front. It’s inappropriate workplace behaviour, sitting so informally there, offering boiled sweets to men you barely know from around the First Order. Thank goodness, your superior is Hux and not the mind-reader Kylo Ren, or else he’d already know half of the infringements you’d never usually commit.

“I never understood why people like these sweets,” his monotonous voice intones, those dark eyes glancing to meet yours, a smile curving those plush lips a little. “but they’re not bad.”

You grin, but before you can reply that _you’d better like those caramel melts, they cost me four weeks of pay last shore leave on Corellia!_ the General’s door opens, the Mirialan Minister exiting, the crop of red hair visible from the doorframe. Standing at once, you put on your best friendly smile for the Minister.

“Matt,” the General hummed, narrowing his eyes. “Thank you, ________. I’ll take it from here.”

* * *

Every Benduday, you were allowed a half day off for yourself. It was perhaps the only time you took for yourself, and often, you just lay in your quarters, exhausted, listening to music from your home, reading a book on your Holo. But today, you are not in your quarters. Dressed in plainclothes, you walk toward the mess hall. You’ve heard that from time to time the officers and soldiers have performances or music there, and finally giving up on your curiosity, you’ve made the trek. In case there isn’t anything on, you still have your novel awaiting, tucked under your arm, and your food card to munch on something special. After all, it’s your half-day off.

But entering the mess hall, it’s not what you expected.

Just by stepping inside, the officers and Stormtroopers stop their merrymaking, some even giving you glares and icy stares. The person on the makeshift stage scowls, jumping off the table. You feel your face burn in shame, and in the heat of their anger.

“It’s ________ the Bootlicker,” A Trooper with their helmet off huffed. “Come to report us to your boss for having fun? Or to shove that pole up your ass –,”

He’s interrupted by a familiar voice. “Shut up, Jerk Face.”

Matt stands beside you, his arms crossed, that scowl on his face, same as ever. Except, he’s standing a little in front of you, taking all the stares and brunt of the hatred that’s rolling off these people in waves. He’s out of uniform, wearing grey slacks, and a loose orange t-shirt that leaves his arms bare enough to see the muscles that he has. You would never think that the guy whose perpetual glower would stand up for you.

“Oh look, it’s Matt,” someone commented. “Great.”

You huff, stepping around Matt’s human wall to face the attackers of your character face-on. “I didn’t come here to dispel your gathering,” you hum, arms crossed. “I’m off-duty. Like many of you are, right now. You workers of sanitation, of communications, of weapons – you don’t bring your work into this place! I don’t smell the shit you lay in here, so why would I bring mine with me?” you bark. “I may be the personal secretary of our General himself, and do not forget our mission as First Order!”

But that didn’t happen, except, if you were as brave as you were in your head. Instead, you shook your head, and taking Matt by the hand, lead the both of you out of the mess hall.

“My friend saw Kylo Ren in the shower too!” another officer called out after Matt and you, leering, “He’s banging the guy on the regular!”

Matt’s face grew red with anger, but with your firm hold on his wrist, he can’t go back to defend the honour of the First Order’s honorary Sith apprentice. You keep walking with Matt in tow, not noticing where you’re going until you realise how lost you are. Or rather, far away from the regular places you often visit. It’s also then you realise that you’ve got hot tears streaming from your eyes, and releasing his hand, wipe your eyes hastily with each hand.

“Um –,” Matt stands there, looking at you through his glasses.

You shake your head, sobs erupting from deep within your chest. “I’m – fine,” you cry, just as a fresh wave of tears hit. “I’m not usually a mess like this, I – I swear.”

Matt nods, his hand hovering awkwardly over your shoulder, and pats your back. “Big mood.”

You shake your head, a smile cracking despite your sad disposition. “I mean,” you take a deep breath, and wipe at your dripping nose with your hand, “You didn’t have to stand up for me back there, they’re only going to be rude to you now.”

Matt shook his head of light hair. “They’re already insolent people. I don’t care.”

You laugh at his wording, and start walking back the way you came, hopefully to find your quarters before curfew started. “Cool. So, I hear you’re a fan of Kylo Ren? What’s he like?”

Matt frowns, “You don’t know Kylo Ren? But you work with H – the General.”

“Not really,” you mutter. “I mean, often, I see him around in the early mornings, or around on Starkiller Base, or The Finalizer, but lately, I haven’t. General Hux said he’s away on an assignment, I think from Supreme Leader Snoke, but…I’ve never seen a logged assignment in all my time serving the First Order that went for over a month,” you confess. “What – I mean, you’re the Kylo Ren expert. Should I take it up with General?”

Matt kept walking beside you for a moment, pensive. Silent. Then, “I don’t think so. It’s nothing to worry about. I heard Kylo Ren once spent a long amount of time chasing a band of hooligans across the galaxy for almost two months.”

 “Wow.” You raise your eyebrows, “that would be tiring.”

Matt nods, wiping the corner of his eye behind his glasses. “Yeah.” There’s another pause, and he adds, “you sound like you’re a fan too.”

You’re not sure how to answer that, what, when he’s Kylo Ren’s number one enthusiast. You shrug, and giving a final wipe to your now drying eyes, hum. “I’m not sure. I just wonder what’s going on under all that black he wears.” You add, grinning, “Can’t be the easiest job, running around with our General.”

Matt exhales, some of the blond hairs floating out of his eyes at the small puff, “I heard that’s true.”

* * *

You’ve taken the afternoon off, telling the General that you needed to take some time off for personal reasons. Instead of going to the medical droids for a check-up, like other people would do when telling their superiors that reason, you find Matt by his work station a couple of days later after the episode of you crying. He’s working hard on a calcinator you know little about, and his supervisor seems to be one backchat away from a psychotic episode. Poor gal. You’ll put in a good word with management for her to get some Me Time.

“Hey,” you greet Matt, kneeling beside him. Passing a wrench to him, you add, “I, er, wondered if you had a moment to talk.”

Matt meditates on your words for a moment, and taking the wrench, places it in his toolbelt. “What do you want to talk about?” He takes the spanner, by his feet, and adjusts the bolt in the wall.

You glance around to the passer-byers and the other maintenance staff, and shake your head. “Not here. I – private?”

Matt agrees, and while his boss is looking the other way, the pair of you sneak over to a private janitorial closet, and close the door. Matt goes to speak, but before he can, you place a broom under the handle so you can’t be interrupted. He goes to speak again, but you place another there, just to be safe.

“What did you want to talk about?” He asks.

You feel a blush heating your face, realising that you’ve dragged him into a closet. You clear your throat, and remember what words you had rehearsed beforehand. “I – you’re a really great guy, Matt, and I like you a lot,” you admit, “but…I know you’re actually Kylo Ren.” You reach over in the dim lighting of the closet, and slide the blond wig from his head. Dark brown locks of hair fall out, tufts covering his ears, one section almost over his glasses. “I worked it out, don’t worry. You’re still undercover.”

There’s a lump in his throat he can’t seem to swallow. “How – how did you –,”

You tap the side of your nose. “I’m not General Hux’s secretary for nothing.” You pause, and add, “Could, I, erm, if it wasn’t out of my rank…why are you undercover?”

It’s his turn to flush, the red marks of a blush covering from his neck to ears. The lump in his throat is back, and clearing his throat, Kylo Ren replies, “I always saw a pretty secretary hanging around and…wondered what it would be like to know her.” He mumbles, unable to look at you.

“Commander,” you gape, feeling the warm feeling inside your chest leave you, “who is she?”

He takes those ridiculous glasses off his face, and folding them, tosses them into a mop bucket in the corner. “She works harder than I can ever say I’ve seen any other secretary on here work. And she always wears her uniform with pride. Dutiful. Never fails to smile, and greet everyone. And yet, they still antagonised her when she did her best.”

You fold your arms, feeling almost sick. Here you were, in a janitor’s cupboard with the intention to find out about Matt-who-isn’t-Matt-but-Commander-Ren, and perhaps kiss the guy, but he’s telling you all about the crush of his dreams. _Awkward_.

“She sounds great,” you smile. “What’s her name?”

Kylo Ren blinks. “_________.”

You feel your cheeks enflame in shame. _You might be smart enough to work out he’s no radar technician, but emotions? No dice!_ “Me?” you squeak.

He nods. “I mean, I’m not Matt, but – I just wanted to know you. Whenever I see you on the Bridge, or in the hallways, or in the ginger asshole’s office, I’m not silent because I’m rude.” He gushes, the monotonous voice softer in timbre, gentle while not on display before others, “I just can’t put three words together.”

“Would it be forward of me…Commander –,”

He shakes his dark hair. “Call me Kylo.”

“ _Kylo_ …to kiss you?” you finish your sentence. As soon as the dark-haired Sith apprentice nods, you cradle his face with your hands, your elbow hitting the light switch of the cupboard to _off_. Between kisses, you whisper, “I heard Kylo Ren has a thing has a thing for kissing girls in closets.”

You feel him grin against your lips, laughing. “I heard he also likes to take things back to his room.”

“Sounds like a reasonable guy,” you reply, leaning in for another kiss. “Don’t tell Hux I’m taking time off work to make out in a supply closet.”

Kylo laughs again. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any requests, find me on Tumblr at @susiephalange, or [@phalangewrites](https://phalangewrites.tumblr.com/request_conditions) ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ✿


End file.
